


First Encounters

by HappyCannibal



Series: The Battered Prince [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angel has a potty mouth, Gen, Near Death Experiences, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, POV First Person, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28632585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyCannibal/pseuds/HappyCannibal
Summary: The freshly banished Prince Angel suffers in the desert Dead Lands before being saved. How Angel and Fubar met.
Series: The Battered Prince [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2098269





	First Encounters

As soon as I get back to Redfall, take back my throne, and publicly humiliate and then execute the one who took it from me, I’m banning the word sand. No more. The people will have to find another term for sandwiches. “Fuck Sand 260 A.O.” the campaign will be. It will be revolutionary.

Sand has been my only scenery for the past four days. I had no idea where I was walking but at this point, I was just looking for a sign of bipedal life. I was hoping for someone who was not a scavenger but that would probably narrow my chances to zero. I don’t think civilized people even existed here which was understandable. Redfall, although usually on the below average side in temperature, was by no means a place with a steady climate but it also wasn’t sweltering hot _and_ ball freezing all in one 24 hour cycle. My ripped up, filthy shirt, pants, and boots were the only protection against the elements I had and I still felt myself going through the different stages of a cooking process. Thank goodness I knew how to survive in the wilderness but a forest with a body of water was _way_ different from a desert.

It would have made more sense to just kill me right then and there instead of banishing me but _noooo_. They just had to be dramatic and ship me to the Dead Lands like this was a work of fiction. Stupid fucking scavengers. My kidnappers gave me a knife upon abandoning me, probably expecting me to kill myself. It was cheap and shitty but a useful tool. Used it faithfully until it broke on a cactus. May its poor soul rest in pieces.

I really wish they would have just killed me.

Every breath I took felt like I was breathing in shards of glass. My eyes and mouth were as dry as the ground under my feet and at this point, I wasn’t even sure what I was looking at other than sand dunes. I was already pretty bad off when they kicked me off the boat. Going through tobacco withdrawal and panic attack after panic attack on the trip here wrecked my body. If I was dehydrated then, I was definitely a shriveled up husk of a man now. With that knife I had, I managed to kill some small rodents and even a snake. They were the only food I had and I drunk their blood like some mediocre vampire. When hunting became too tedious as my energy waned, I tried to turn to cacti to eat but found out the hard way that cacti were harder to cut into than I thought.

After the knife broke, I lost the one tool I had. No more blood, no more measly little food I could barely stomach. That was two days ago. What little bit of resources I had were long gone and at this point, I’m pretty sure I was surviving on pure spite alone. Spite wasn’t very nutritious, though. This was agony and I wanted it to end. If it meant getting revenge in the afterlife, so be it. I’ll haunt their asses.

I blinked and when I opened my eyes again, my face was pressed against the sand. I wheezed. Was this the end? Felt like it. Dying in the desert, all alone, banished from my kingdom. This sucked. I had so much more things I could have done. Become king after my father, expand territory across the seas, bang that one servant who always put extra sugar in my morning tea. If I could cry, I probably would have. So instead I closed my eyes and allowed the silence to take over.

\---

“…ooks familiar.”

“Never mind that. W…”

Voices. Did I really die? Were those the voices of angels? I felt my body being picked up, arms under my arms and legs. It was hard with the grit and sand in my eyes but I managed to blink one open. Everything was blurry but I could see the divide of the sky and sand. Damn it. Not dead. Then who was carrying me?

Their voices were going in and out as I was still out of it but I caught the words “Redfall”, “bastards”, and “water.” I was propped up on a barely cushioned surface, the sun no longer on my face. Something hard was pressed into my mouth and before I could start to panic, warm water flooded inside. I greedily gulped it down, my chin becoming wet with wasted lifesaving liquid. I gagged from drinking too fast and the water stopped.

“Easy, easy,” One of my saviors said, removing the nozzle from my mouth. “Can’t have you bringing that back up. Wasteful.” To punctuate that, I felt rough fabric wipe the water off my chin and neck and then rubbed across my eyes and cheeks, wiping off the grime. I was startled.

“W-Wha…” I tried to say but my voice sounded grating to my own ears. I didn’t even sound human. There was no use in trying to talk again so I didn’t try. With my eyes cleared, I squinted at whoever was beside me. All I saw was ragged, dirty clothing and a head wrapped up in a scarf. Man, I hope that wasn’t what they used to wipe my face off. I felt my body sag to the side and I found myself leaning against a hard frame. Must be a car or something similar.

“Let’s get him back to the village,” The other voice said, further away from me. “The healers’ll take care of him.” I felt whatever I was on jolt and vibrate as an engine started up. Soon, I felt the vehicle move. Just my luck. More scavengers. I couldn’t escape them even near death but at least this bunch didn’t seem like the “kill your father and kick you out of your home” type. Silver linings, I guess.

The near death experience and the lull of the engine made me close my eyes and I instantly fell asleep.

\---

When I came to again, my world was black. After a second of panic, I realized there was a wet cloth over my eyes, blocking my vision. I flexed my fingers and then shifted my arm to test my mobility. Everything felt stiff but I could move my limbs with some shakiness. I removed the cloth from my face and let out a groan. Just that action itself was draining.

“Oh, you’re up,” I shifted my head towards the direction of the voice and oh God, hello wet dream. The speaker was a tanned man wearing a wife beater with rippling muscles, a rugged black beard, and a horned headdress made of fur. As he came closer, I saw his one eye was a clear green that reminded me of the forests by the castle during summer. The other half of the man’s face was wrapped in bandages. I could overlook the fact that he was a scavenger if that meant a little extra service. I tried to get up but my body didn’t agree with the movement. The man rushed over before I could fall down on the bed I was on and helped me lay back down. “Whoa there! Careful. You’ve been out for a bit and you’re still pretty weak. Moving wouldn’t be wise right now.” I cleared my throat, wincing at the rough feeling that was still there.

“Where am I?” I said though it sounded more like “Whe ‘m I?” I looked around at my surroundings. We were in a pretty spacious, well-lit long tent. My bed was apparently one of five lining one side of the tent while cabinets, chests, and tables lined the other sides. Lanterns dotted the space above our heads, hanging from poles acting as rafters. Glancing outside the open flap, I saw the orange light of a setting sun. ‘ _How long was I out?_ ’ The mysterious cutie sat down in a stool beside my bed.

“You’re in the Wino tribe, the medical tent to be specific,” the man replied, understanding my garbled speech. “Two of our scouts spotted you a day ago out in the wild. It’s a good thing, too because some buzzards almost got to you first. I’m Fubar, by the way.”

“…Prince Angel.”

Fubar chuckled but there was no humor behind it. “Not anymore if you’re here,” He replied, shaking his head. He frowned. “Can’t believe those sons of bitches actually managed to do it. Should have tried more to take them down before it could happen.” He muttered the last part. Fubar got up and walked over to one of the tables, saying “Let’s try to get some more fluids into you.” Soon he came back with a glass of something yellowish and propped me up so he could help me drink. I glanced up at him, hesitant.

“It’s just broth.” Fubar said. I took a sip. It really was broth. Fubar helped me slowly drain the cup of its lukewarm contents. Once I was done, I felt my eyelids begin to droop. That small conversation sapped all of what little energy I had. Fubar must have sensed this because he helped me back down and placed a re-moistened rag on my forehead.

“Rest up,” He said, sitting back down. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.” I shifted to get more comfortable and closed my eyes.

Then his name suddenly clicked in my head.

‘ _What kind of parent names their child Fubar?_ ’


End file.
